


do not try me (devil, devil)

by sweetpandemonium



Series: my heart (is safe with you) [2]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: #no1dadRagnor, A/B/O Universe, M/M, Omega!Magnus, Past Child Abuse, Self-Doubt, Self-Loathing, Shitty Writing, Young Magnus, beta!ragnor, but he is strong and wonderful, but he likes magnus, implied past rape/non con, magnus suffers, not super explicit but could be triggering, ragnor is basically his father figure, ragnor is grumpy and pretends he doesn't like kids, shadowhunters are dicks, that thing where magnus was briefly raised by silent brothers in spain? here it is, the silent brothers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-18 07:14:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10611894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetpandemonium/pseuds/sweetpandemonium
Summary: Magnus survives through the years.This wassupposedto be a prequel, but my brain decided "hey, let's write part of this first, for no reason!" so here it is. Oops.The tags will be updated with each chapter!





	1. a promise

**Author's Note:**

> As always, the characters/settings/universe elements you recognize don't belong to me. Disclaimer!
> 
> There is some sexism against omegas in this story, as it is the prequel and takes place in the beforementioned past in which this kind of sexism took place. But it isn't really the main _focus_ of the story.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ragnor meets a little warlock child. He has no idea the amount of impact the kid will one day have on his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who still doesn't own the Shadowhunters universe and characters? Me. I still don't own the Shadowhunters universe and characters. Also you. (Probably.)
> 
> HEY. Keep in mind this all takes place in Spain, so everyone's speaking Spanish. Ragnor knows like seven languages. It's just translated because I'd only offend someone with my shitty Google Translating if I did it all in actual Spanish.

 

 

 

 

When Ragnor first saw the child, his first thought is that he was a tiny little thing.

The boy was looking up at him with huge, scared eyes– wide and yellow like a cat’s, the slit pupils blown wide. He had light brown skin that was smudged with dirt, and dark, messy hair. He wore only old, baggy garments made of cheap cloth, a thin and torn blanket wrapped around his trembling form.

He was huddled in the corner of the small room, trembling like a leaf.

His scent was sharp and strong– full of distress and fear. Ragnor knew he shouldn’t be able to smell the boy’s distress from the doorway– but between the small space, the boy’s poor condition, and the emotional state the child must be in, it was probably enough to amplify his distress.

Apparently, _shadowhunters_ had taken the boy in– of all things. They’d found him wandering, soaking wet and terrified, near a small farm in the West Indies. And brought him here, to the Silent City, and then this church connected to it, where he’d evidently been living for the past several months.

A warlock, living with the Silent Brothers. How ridiculous.

However, now that he was “old enough”, a rather rude shadowhunter– and a particularly self-important alpha– had called Ragnor up to teach the boy.

Quite honestly, Ragnor didn’t blame the High Warlock of Spain for not wanting to deal with this. So, apparently, they just went to the nearest willing warlock. And Ragnor was next on their list.

Ragnor only accepted at all because the shadowhunters clearly didn’t know how dangerous it was, just giving a young– and evidently powerful, given that he’d been informed the boy had already caused an earthquake and several storms (as evidenced by the rain currently pounding at the windows outside)– to just any warlock passing by. Lord knows what would have happened had he been passed over to the wrong person– to someone who would use such a child to do… unsavory things.

At least this way, Ragnor would know if the kid ended up being dangerous. He could always bring him to the Spiral Labyrinth if he was malicious.

(After all, this violent storm was his doing. And the shadowhunter had mentioned the boy was often in trouble… but then, Ragnor could hardly trust the judgement of a shadowhunter, could he?)

But when the shadowhunter– Martin, Matthew, Marius, who knows– showed him into the small, dimly-lit room, he wasn’t expecting a _child._

He’d been expecting an angry teenager, or a sulking young adult. But this wasn’t… he was so _little._

Malicious was definitely not a word that came to mind.

Terrified, maybe.

The storm was muffled by the thick stone walls, barely audible. The room was small and relatively clean, with stone walls and a little cot in the corner which the boy was sitting on. It was dimly lit, but not dimly lit enough to obscure the gleaming yellow of the boy’s eyes—presumably his mark.

Ragnor stepped closer, showing his palms and trying to be as unthreatening as possible.

The boy’s eyes widened and he shrank back.

“It hasn’t seemed too eager at the prospect of a teacher. But then, it’s still wary of strangers,” the shadowhunter said carelessly, looking quite literally down his nose at the child. “Well, everyone, really.”

Noting the man’s deplorable use of ‘it’, Ragnor shot him a glare. “I wonder why,” he muttered sarcastically under his breath, but said nothing. Not yet, anyway.

Raising his voice to address the boy, he drew closer, keeping his movements slow. “What’s your name?”

“Bane,” the shadowhunter answered for him, making the boy flinch again.

“Bane?” Ragnor asked incredulously. “What kind of name is that for a child?”

“Destruction,” the boy said softly in stilted Spanish. “It’s what I am.”

Apparently, he spoke. And what worrying words they were, too.

“The Silent Brothers taught it Spanish,” the shadowhunter said. “Mostly, anyway.”

“Him,” Ragnor snapped.

The shadowhunter– Marvin? –rolled his eyes.

Ragnor sighed angrily. Part of him wanted to leave right now, get out of this mess while he still could, and let someone else deal with this.

But looking at the boy, he knew he couldn’t very well leave him here like this.

It would end up weighing on his consciousness, coming back to bite him at the worst times. He’d be enjoying a perfectly good glass of wine, only to suddenly remember the scared face of a little warlock.

Besides, he couldn’t _really_ abandon a downworlder child like that, could he? Not to the hands of shadowhunters, no matter how difficult it would be.

He huffed silently, having already given in.

What to do, what to do?

After a moment, Ragnor sighed. What else?

“Leave,” he told the shadowhunter.

“What?” the alpha– Maxwell? Marshall? Perhaps Ragnor should try to remember his name at some point– asked, clearly affronted.

Ragnor rolled his eyes. “I said _leave._ Personally, I rather doubt you _really_ want to be around when I train a young warlock, anyway. Must I spell it out for you, Mario?”

“My name is _Marcus,_ ” the shadowhunter snapped, “Marcus Trueblood. And I’m _supposed_ to supervise you to make sure neither of you get out of hand. The Silent Brothers said to start with the basics today.”

“Do I care?” asked Ragnor rhetorically. “ _Go._ Stand outside the door if you must, but you’re doing more harm than help staying in here.”

“Basics,” the man gritted out.

“And what would you know about magic?”

Ragnor casually let a few sparks escape his fingers, letting his power mingle into his scent.

The shadowhunter– Ragnor was going to call him Mason, just to piss him off– balked. He huffed, irritated, but obliged, his disgust for warlocks apparently outweighing his concern they could do something horrible that he wouldn’t be able to handle.

“I’ll be back in an hour,” the alpha said threateningly. “Don’t do anything _inappropriate,_ warlock.”

And then he was gone.

Ragnor sighed again, unbelievably exasperated. He felt a headache coming on.

He turned back to the boy, who hadn’t taken his eyes off of him.

“I’m Ragnor Fell, your new teacher,” Ragnor said awkwardly. Damn it, why did he ever think this was a good idea? He wasn’t great with _people,_ much less _kids._

The boy shrunk away as Ragnor came closer, wide eyes tracking his every movement.

The smell was almost overpowering now, fear and distress and anticipation of something horrible all radiating from Bane.

And as he got closer– he blinked in surprise.

Omega. The boy was an omega.

Ragnor suddenly remembered that Malcom Blueflood– or whatever he’d said his name was– was an alpha, and likely the only non-Silent Brother to be near the kid in months. He remembered the boy’s fear of the man and felt ice creep into his veins. Darkly, he wondered just what the boy had been through in his short years. In these short few months.

Luckily, he himself was a beta, so his scent probably wouldn’t frighten the kid.

He stepped closer again, finally coming to get down on one knee in front of the boy, who was shaking harder than ever. For the first time, the boy’s eyes flickered away, suddenly avoiding his gaze.

It was much easier to see now that he _was_ a teenager– albeit a young one. But he was so scrawny and small, with his hollowed eyes and lanky limbs, all swathed in the ragged blanket he’d been given, that it had been hard to tell.

“Hey,” he said, as soothing as he could manage. “You’re safe. For now.” He added the last bit as an afterthought, only realizing a moment too late it wasn’t the best thing to say. In fact, the whole sentence came out awkward and stilted. Ugh. Ragnor _hated_ talking to kids.

“I’m here to teach you,” Ragnor offered. “To control your magic, for one.”

The boy’s expression darkened, but he still didn’t look up at Ragnor’s face. “I only hurt people,” he said quietly. “I can’t control it. There’s no one who could teach me that.”

“You can _learn_ to control it,” Ragnor said.

“And how can you teach me?” the boy challenged, but his voice was weak and tired. “Are you also a demon?”

Ragnor inhaled sharply, ignoring the bitter tingle in the air. “I’m like you, Bane,” he said, the cruel name leaving a bitter taste on his tongue. But he held up a hand, willing a green shimmer of light to emerge from his palms, removing his glamour so the boy could see his horns. “But neither of us are demons.”

The stench of fear and distress was lessening now, leaving the air cold and thin.

The boy’s eyes widened, taking in the sight. “Like me?” he asked softly. “There are others like me?”

“Many,” Ragnor said.

“I– we are not demons?”

“No,” Ragnor said firmly. “We are not. We have magic, we’re different, but we aren’t demons.”

“Brother Enoch told me I’m not going to age,” Bane said. “Is that not demonic?”

“It is _not._ ” Ragnor told him. “Perhaps not human, but not demonic. We are warlocks, Bane, and I won’t lie– much of our power is demonic in origin. But _we_ are not. We decide what to do with it.”

He was rather proud of himself that he’d managed to sound eloquent instead of stuffy.

Or he hoped so, anyway.

But the boy didn’t say anything, taking in the information with wide eyes.

“Do you have any control over your magic?” Ragnor asked, breaking the silence.

Thunder crashed particularly loud outside.

Bane winced.

Ragnor would take that as a no, then.

“You have much to learn,” Ragnor sighed.

He didn’t fail to notice the spike of fear in the boy’s scent. He’d have to teach the boy a few simple scent-blocking spells.

“I am to be your teacher, am I not?” Ragnor asked.

“I don’t like teachers very much,” the boy said.

“You’ve had teachers before?” Ragnor asked skeptically. Surely he would have heard if another warlock was training him– and the Silent Brothers certainly didn’t have the knowledge to teach very much.

“Brother Enoch,” Bane answered. “He isn’t a demon like me–”

Ragnor coughed.

“–a _warlock_ ,” the boy corrected himself, blinking like he couldn’t believe what he was saying, “but he tried to make sure I didn’t hurt anyone.”

Ragnor didn’t really like the sound of that.

“Are you going to visit me?” the boy asked curiously. “Or is it just… this once?”

“Visit? Dear lord, no. You’re coming with me, boy.”

“What?”

“Well, I can hardly let you stay _here._ ” Ragnor said, gesturing around the small room in disgust.

He really couldn’t. This was going to be a pain in the ass, Ragnor just _knew_ it, but he couldn’t let Bane stay here.

With shadowhunters, teaching the boy that he was a demon, and probably that he was lesser because he was an omega. Who knows what they were putting in the poor boy’s head?

“I can’t leave,” Bane said quietly.

“Why ever not?”

“They won’t let me,” he said simply. “They said I have to stay here ‘till I’m older.”

“How much older, do you think?” Ragnor snorted. “No, likely they just want to control you and your power. A warlock, raised by shadowhunters to do their bidding. Fools. If not that, then something equally stupid.”

Bane blinked. “Are you going to take me away?”

“I’m here to help,” Ragnor said, spreading his hands out. “If you’ll let me, I’ll get you somewhere safe, and then I’ll teach you, or find someone else to teach you.”

Bane bit his lip. “How do I know you truly mean well?”

Ragnor sighed. “You don’t,” he said.

Bane watched him for a long moment. “Will it be any better than here?”

“You’ll be safe,” Ragnor said firmly. “No shadowhunters, no alphas.”

The boy shuddered at the last word. “Promise?” he asked, eyes wide with all the naivety of a child.

Despite his suspicious questions and likely harrowing experiences, it seemed he hadn’t completely lost the innocence of childhood.

Ragnor wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

“Promise,” Ragnor said with conviction.

The boy blinked owlishly, glancing at the doorway. “When do we leave?”

Ragnor stood, walking to the door.

“Well, we might need an escape plan,” Ragnor said, peering out the doorway. No shadowhunters in sight. Apparently, Marcellus had gotten bored.

“No watch outside,” he said, “But Marceline there should be back soon.”

“Marceline?” the boy snorted, before realizing what he’d said and quieting again.

Ragnor looked him over. “Can you stand?”

Bane nodded meekly, stumbling to his feet– only for his legs to buckle from underneath him, causing him to collapse to his knees with a muffled cry.

The boy fell back against the wall again, curling the blanket tighter around him. He looked away from Ragnor, clearly expecting to be punished.

“You don’t have to stand,” Ragnor said. “If you can’t, it’s quite all right.”

Bane bit his lip again, fidgeting with his hands nervously. He shifted, lifting his leg to show Ragnor.

There were welts on the soles of his feet and the backs of his thighs, clearly from a beating with a stick of some kind.

“Sometimes I still… I hurt people,” the boy said quietly. “When they get too close, or in my sleep. Brother Enoch punishes me so I don’t again. He said it’s a valuable lesson.”

Seeing Ragnor’s thunderous expression, the boy backtracked. “I don’t mean to,” he said insistently. “I really don’t! It just– it happens!”

Ragnor inhaled deeply, ignoring the spike of panic from Bane in the air at his obvious anger. “I’m not going to punish you,” he said firmly. “You’ve done nothing wrong. I’ll just have to carry you.” He couldn’t be that heavy, could he?

“W-what?”

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” Ragnor asked, coming closer to hold the boy’s leg up, examining his injuries. He was never the best at healing magic, but he ease the pain for a while until he could get the boy a proper medic of some sort.

“N-no,” Bane said nervously. “Just my– never mind.”

Ragnor frowned, but called his magic to his hands. He’d figure out what _that_ meant later.

Bane watched in fascination in shock as the green, glimmering light from Ragnor’s hands washed over his wounds, the cool sensation soothing as it chased away the pain.

“Am I to walk now?” he asked.

“No, of course not,” Ragnor said. “You’ll open the wounds up again. I only took away the pain. As I said, I’ll carry you.”

Bane did that slow, owlish blink again, fingers twitching.

“Is that alright?” Ragnor ventured, slightly unnerved by his lack of response.

Bane bit his lip again, but nodded. “Are we going now?” he asked.

“Do you want to?” Ragnor asked, honestly curious.

The boy nodded quickly. “I don’t like it here,” he admitted quietly, tensing and glancing about like he expected a shadowhunter to burst out of the walls.

“Shadowhunters are cruel,” Ragnor nodded. “I can’t blame you.”

“The Silent Brothers aren’t so bad,” the boy shrugged. “They just want to make sure I don’t blow anything up. I just don’t like Master Trueblood. Do I still have to call him that?”

“No,” Ragnor said, slightly amused by the face the boy was making. “Are you ready to go?”

The boy nodded again.

Ragnor stepped forward and scooped the boy up. He was instantly hit with how shockingly _light_ the boy was– had he ever seen a decent meal?

Bane squirmed in his arms for a second, as light as he was, he was still an armful of bony, lanky teenager– before settling, bridal style in Ragnor’s arms, face turned towards his chest.

The kid breathed deeply, before seemingly relaxing, letting Ragnor carry him.

Bane was showing an awful lot of trust to someone he’d just met.

Now to think of their escape.

Ragnor wondered if they could just… walk out.

The Silent Brothers were off doing… whatever Silent Brothers did in their spare time. Malcom was off, probably punching something or “training”.

There just weren’t very many people _here._ This wasn’t a place that usually really needed to be protected. At least, not the church, and Ragnor didn’t even need to enter the Silent City to leave.

He thought about it for a moment, then mentally shrugged. He’d deal with anyone he came across if he did.

Ragnor adjusted his grip on the boy, exiting the room without comment. He walked down several hallways and almost made it to the entrance before he was interrupted. By then, the boy was already nodding off in his arms.

Despite everything he must’ve been through, Ragnor thought not for the first time, he was so trusting.

“Where are you taking him?” Machello asked sharply.

Ragnor rolled his eyes. “You didn’t seriously think I would be leaving him _here,_ did you?” he said with more confidence then he felt.

“It is an omega, and the Silent Brothers’ ward,” the shadowhunter snapped. “and it’s my responsibility. You have no right to take it!”

“ _He_ is a _warlock,_ and doesn’t fall under your jurisdiction at _all,_ ” Ragnor said tightly. “And what does his being an omega matter? Answer: it doesn’t. We are leaving.”

Marcel grabbed his arm, and Ragnor threw him off, jostling the boy in his arms.

“Do not cross me,” Ragnor said dangerously. It was a little hard to be intimidating while carrying a small, bruised teenager in your arms, but Ragnor managed it.

The shadowhunter drew back, eyes glinting angrily.

Ragnor prayed he didn’t call his bluff, because while he was quite sure he could take Maurice, he wasn’t sure he could protect Bane properly while doing so.

There was a silent stand-off. Bane trembled slightly in his arms, clearly completely awake now.

Finally, the alpha stepped away, sneering. “Fine,” he bit out. “It’s your problem now.”

Ragnor’s lips twitched into a snarl, but he held back.

“Good day, sir,” he said, icily polite. “I do hope to never see you again.”

As he left the building, still holding the boy in his arms– it was definitely concerning how light he was, Ragnor wasn’t even breaking a sweat– but it was no problem. His current accommodations weren’t far from here.

As they walked, they didn’t say anything. Bane was apparently content to just let himself be carried, Ragnor getting lost in thought.

Ragnor was slightly surprised at how little attention they grew– they made quite a picture, after all, a ruffled stranger in town carrying a young and bruised boy through the streets. But when he thought about it, it made sense. No one wanted to get involved. They didn’t want to be part of the mess.

Ragnor sighed. Why couldn’t he have been so reasonable?

For example, wasn’t really sure what he was going to do with Bane. He couldn’t exactly raise the boy, could he? He would have no idea what to do with a kid. And Ragnor didn’t really have many friends, certainly no one he’d trust with a young, vulnerable warlock. He kept well to himself, and he had no idea who he could turn to with such a delicate matter.

Then again.

Bane wasn’t a _little_ kid. He was old enough to be at least a little independent.

And Ragnor _could_ use an assistant. An apprentice, if you will.

Someone young, willing, smart. All things the boy seemed to be.

And it wasn’t as if Ragnor had hated his company so far. Once the shadowhunter had left and he’d begun to come out of his shell, he was curious and quick-thinking. All qualities Ragnor certainly didn’t mind in a person.

He was almost there when Bane finally spoke again, shifting in his arms to bury his face in Ragnor’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” the boy murmured, his voice muffled by Ragnor’s coat.

Ragnor sighed, but couldn’t dent the slightest prick of fondness. “No problem, kid,” he muttered. “We’re going to have to get you some better clothes.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess where Magnus got his "calling people by the wrong name" habit? Ragnor. Definitely Ragnor.
> 
>    
> I realize that this didn't really focus on the whole a/b/o dynamics, but don't worry, there will be more of that later!
> 
> The next chapter is just this chapter from Magnus's POV. So we know what's goin' through his head. It's kind of shitty but I've edited it literally seven thousand times and it's still not up to my standards. I just feel like I'm not really getting into the head of someone in young!Magnus's shoes. Idk. If I offend anyone, please tell me how I can fix it!
> 
> I'm also working on other parts of this series, all out of order, because why in the world would my brain give me everything in the right order??? But we've got lots of things in store, including soulbonds, children, dates, siblings, friendship, and smut! I'm looking forward to getting through some of these other things. This series is going to focus a lot on family/friendship relationships but don't worry, there will be plenty of romance and sexytimes!


	2. the teacher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bane doesn't know what to think of his new teacher.

 

 

 

When Brother Enoch told Bane he would be getting a teacher, Bane didn’t know what to think.

He’d had lessons before. Brother Enoch had _taught_ him before.

He didn’t want that again.

But… he needed it, didn’t he? So he didn’t hurt anyone.

_~~I didn’t ask to be this way.~~ _

Bane tried not to think about it.

He glanced around the small room he lived in. He was curled up on his little cot in the corner, hugging his knees.

He felt like a monster in a cave. In a cage.

Like there would be a hero, on a quest to slay the beast, who would break down the dark doors of his lair and strike him down. Save the day. Rid the world of a demon.

That’s what he was, after all.

That’s what he had to be.

He had scary yellow eyes. He had fearsome, horrible powers he couldn’t control. He’d killed his parents. He wouldn’t age. He was an omega, and a male one at that.

All things that were supposed to make him… _less_.

Less than shadowhunters.

Less than alphas.

Less than human.

Sometimes, Bane didn’t feel like a _he_ at all _._ He felt like an _it._

And now he was getting a _teacher._

What would this teacher teach him? What would it matter?

Bane very much doubted he was going to live past eighteen years old.

That wasn’t necessarily something he _dreaded._ At least he wouldn’t have to worry about not aging, right?

But that wasn’t the point.

So if he probably wasn’t going to live longer than a few years, what did it matter if he could hide his horrible eyes color or his scent?

He already had lived through hell. How could it get worse?

Bane knew that was a stupid question.

It could _always_ get worse.

This teacher would be evidence of that.

Trueblood was evidence of that.

Bane shivered at the thought of the man.

He terrified Bane to his very bones.

Trueblood was a big, strong alpha. Bane had never stood a chance, especially when Trueblood had used the old pair of magic-dampening shackles. They’d knocked against Bane’s thin wrists painfully, but were tight enough where Bane couldn’t get them off.

Trueblood was also his “teacher”.

Regular beatings to teach him he had to obey the orders of his superiors, for one.

Rough treatment, a day without food or water.

Sometimes, Bane was even forced to bathe– he hated water, hated being in it. Ever since what happened with his stepfather, he couldn’t bear to submerge himself willingly, even when it meant being filthy.

Usually, Trueblood let it slide, likely not caring for his hygiene, but sometimes, just as a show of power and dominance if nothing else, he’d force him to anyway.

And Bane would slide under the water, thrashing and screaming, and remember rough hands holding him down, remember the air aching in his lungs.

Trueblood would always laugh.

It got worse, too.

Things always got worse.

The door clanged open, startling Bane. He scrambled back, pressing his back against the wall and huddling the tiny blanket he was curled in closer. It was scratchy and full of holes, but it was all he had.

Trueblood entered, followed closely by a man.

The man was tall and gray, with a stern face. He looked like he never smiled.

He kind of reminded Bane of his stepfather.

The almost salt-and-pepper hair, the lines set in his face, the dark brown eyes.

He looked strong and stern. Like the Silent Brothers.

Bane’s new teacher.

No.

_No._

He was going to be like Trueblood, wasn’t he?

Two Truebloods. Two of them, humiliating and dominating and _alpha._

Just the thought made his breath quick with fear, his hands shake.

Bane couldn’t– he couldn’t deal with this.

He could feel his powers burning in his veins. Feel the storm outside, feel the sky opening and the beating the earth with rain. He tried pulling it back into him, tried to _stop,_ but he couldn’t. He was so scared.

A cornered beast.

The man stepped closer, palms spread.

Trueblood gave a derisive huff. “It hasn’t seemed too eager at the prospect of a teacher. But then, it’s still wary of strangers… Well, everyone, really.”

The man seemed to ignore the shadowhunter, slowly moving closer to Bane.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

Bane said nothing, trembling slightly despite himself. What an odd question…

“Bane,” Trueblood said before Bane could gather himself enough to speak.

“Bane?” the man asked incredulously. “What kind of name is that for a child?”

“Destruction,” Bane said quietly, finding his voice. He struggled with Spanish sometimes, but if he tried to speak in his native tongue, he would be punished. “It’s what I am.”

Bane had always been destruction. Poison.

He hurt everything he touched.

His stepfather.

His mother.

 _Gods,_ his mother.

He always tried not to think about her, because every time he did, it all came flooding back. Everything he tried to repress, tried to forget.

Her cold, dead hands. Her sightless, glazed eyes. Her bloated, swinging body.

Trueblood’s voice snapped him out of it.

“The Silent Brothers taught it Spanish,” Trueblood continued. “Mostly, anyway.”

He couldn’t speak Spanish that well. He couldn’t help it. His tongue tripped over the words. He understood it just fine, but… Bane wished he could just talk normally again.

But he couldn’t.

Possibly never again.

He was in _Spain_ now. People here… well, they spoke Spanish.

“ _Him,”_ the man snapped.

What was he…?

Was he… _correcting_ Trueblood?

_Him._

The man had said _him._

Not another, Trueblood, then.

Then what?

The man was still staring down at him, seemingly contemplating something.

That look– it was almost as scary as Trueblood.

But the man wasn’t.

Trueblood looked bored.

“Leave,” the man suddenly said, sharp and curt, breaking the thick silence.

Bane started, jerking his head up to stare at him.

“ _What?_ ” Trueblood demanded.

“I said _leave,_ ” the man said, rolling his eyes. “Personally, I rather doubt you _really_ want to be around when I train a young warlock, anyway. Must I spell it out for you, Mario?”

Bane was torn between the odd desire to giggle at the man addressing Trueblood as Mario, the burning curiosity at the new word _warlock,_ and the fear still ever-prevalent in his bones, watching and waiting for Trueblood’s reaction to such a challenge.

“My name is _Marcus,_ ” Trueblood snapped, “Marcus Trueblood.  And I’m _supposed_ to supervise you to make sure neither of you get out of hand. The Silent Brothers said to start with the basics today.”

“Do I care?” the man asked, raising an eyebrow. “ _Go._ Stand outside the door if you must, but you’re doing more harm than help staying in here.”

“Basics,” Trueblood hissed, slow and angry. Bane shrank back slightly. Trueblood was even worse when he got angry.

“And what would you know about magic?” The man continued blasély, apparently unaware of what Trueblood might do.

His scent spiked threateningly, something tingling and powerful in the air.

And then, something amazing happened–

Trueblood stopped. he backed down.

“I’ll be back in an hour,” Trueblood growled. “Don’t do anything _inappropriate,_ warlock.”

And then… he just left.

He _left._

This man– Bane’s new teacher, apparently– just stood up to Trueblood. And nothing happened.

Well, he _was_ fully grown, and Bane was pretty sure he wasn’t an omega. That probably helped.

The man sighed, and then turned back to him.

“I’m Ragnor Fell, your new teacher,” he said, sounding a bit offbeat. He leant forward.

A part of Bane immediately thought: _finally,_ an introduction.

But also, instinctively, without even meaning to, Bane flinched away from the movement towards him.

And still, the man- Fell? What should Bane even call him? -moved closer, seemingly cautious.

Bane didn’t dare take his eyes off his new teacher.

What was he going to do? What was he going to ‘teach’?

Suddenly, the man inhaled a little sharper. He looked surprised.

Bane didn’t want to know what that meant. What had Fell sensed?

Fell stepped closer again, dropping slowly to one knee in front of Bane. He stared directly into his eyes, intense and searching. Bane looked away, unsettled.

“Hey,” Fell said. “You’re safe. For now.”

_For now._

Well, at least he wasn’t a liar. Probably.

“I’m here to teach you,” Fell continued. “To control your magic, for one.”

Impossible.

Bane’s power– magic, could it even be called that? –was not something to be controlled. It was ripped out of him like a natural disaster, a hurricane. It was destruction and chaos.

It wasn’t something to be controlled.

He didn’t dare to look up at Fell’s face as he told him so.

“You can _learn_ to control it,” Fell insisted.

How?

How could he possibly?

“And how can _you_ teach me?” Bane asked hopelessly. “Are you also a demon?”

There was no one like Bane, as far as he knew. He was a demon, a monster. And even if this man was like him, a hurricane trapped under flesh, a demon among humans, then Bane had little interest in learning from him.

He was a monster, and he had no intention of learning how to become a stronger one.

Fell inhaled sharply, something about Bane’s words apparently bothering him.

“I’m like you, Bane,” he said, and he held up his hand– and light sprung from his palms, not unlike Bane’s– although it was green. And then, his appearance shimmered, and suddenly, Bane could see horns, curved and dark, growing straight from his forehead. One moment there was smooth skin, and the next…

Like Bane’s eyes.

A mark, a mark of his shame, his heritage. And this man–

He really was like Bane.

“But neither of us… are demons,” Fell finished.

Bane had thought… he’d thought there wasn’t anyone else like him. Or at least, not alive.

And yet… here he was.

“Like me?” he asked quietly. “There are others like me?”

“Many,” Fell answered firmly.

“I– we are not demons?”

Why would he say that? It couldn’t be _true,_ could it? Was there– was there even a _chance_ –?

“No,” Fell said. “We are _not._ We have magic, we’re different… but we aren’t demons.”

Bane blinked, trying to process what he was saying. Really, he couldn’t even be sure Fell was telling the truth. But he wanted to believe– he wanted to believe _so badly_ –

A hundred reasons on why it couldn’t be flew through his head, but the _what-if_ s continued to eagerly bat at his mind.

_What if, what if?_

“Brother Enoch told me I’m not going to age,” Bane said, grasping at straws. “Is that not demonic?”

“It is _not._ ” Fell said, taking on a stern voice. Somehow, it didn’t sound frightening– he sounded like he was reassuring Bane, not lecturing him, all the while sounding perfectly firm and unmovable. “Perhaps not human, but not demonic. We are warlocks, Bane, and I won’t lie– much of our power is demonic in origin. But _we_ are not. We decide what to do with it.”

There was that word again. Warlock.

It was an alien concept.

Bane’s mind groped blindly at the idea.

He wasn’t a demon. He wasn’t a monster.

He was a warlock.

And there were other warlocks.

Hell, there was a warlock right in front of him.

He wanted to know more.

But where to even begin?

Besides, he couldn’t…. he couldn’t ask questions, could he?

Brother Enoch would punish him if he spoke out of turn, especially for a stupid question.

But he wanted to know. Wanted to explore this new possibility.

The indecision roiled inside him like the storm outside, anxiety and fear tingling in his chest.

“Do you have any control over your magic?” Fell asked, thankfully breaking the silence himself.

There was a particularly loud boom of thunder outside, timed with the spike in Bane’s heartbeat.

Bane winced. If Fell had been Trueblood or Brother Enoch, he would be in trouble for that little outburst. Hell, the whole storm would probably earn him a beating later tonight.

He couldn’t help it.

But…

Fell was not either of them.

That much was becoming increasingly clear.

“You have much to learn,” Fell sighed.

Bane did _not_ like the sound of that.

Whether he was quite like Trueblood or Brother Enoch was all very well, but he still couldn’t be too different from his previous teachers.

And that disappointed tone never boded well.

“I am to be your teacher, am I not?” Fell asked, shaking his head.

“I don’t like teachers very much,” Bane answered honestly.

“You’ve had teachers before?”

“Brother Enoch,” Bane said, like it was obvious. “He isn’t a demon like me, but–“

Fell coughed.

“–uh, a _warlock,”_ Bane corrected himself, feeling off balance, “but he always tried to make sure I didn’t hurt anyone.”

And he was willing to go to any lengths, even breaking Bane’s hands once when things really went too far. It was almost reassuring, knowing there was someone there like a safety net who would make sure nobody got hurt.

Well, nobody but Bane, but that wasn’t important. He was the one causing the hurt in the first place, right?

“Are you going to visit me?” Bane asked, “Or is it just… this once?”

“Visit? Dear lord, no.”

Bane’s heart sank. Well, it wasn’t that much of a loss. He’d dealt with wors–

“You’re coming with me, boy.”

…What?

“What?” Bane repeated out loud.

“Well, I could hardly let you stay _here,_ ” Fell said, clearly disgusted as he made a vague gesture meaning _this place, this building, these people._

Was… was that even allowed?

“I can’t leave,” Bane insisted.

“Why ever not?”

“They won’t let me,” he said. as if he hadn’t tried before. “They said I have to stay here ‘till I’m older.”

“How much older, do you think?” Fell snorted. “No, likely they just want to control you and your power. A warlock, raised by shadowhunters to do their bidding. Fools. If not that, then something equally stupid.”

“Are you going to take me away?” Bane asked. It was like a fairy tale book: the little orphan being whisked away by an enigmatic visitor.

But fairy tales weren’t for little monsters, demons–

Bane paused to consider.

But maybe… just _maybe…_ they could be for warlocks.

Even omega ones.

Hmm.

“I’m here to help,” Fell said, showing his palms. “If you’ll let me, I’ll get you somewhere safe, and then I’ll teach you. Or find someone else to teach you.”

Bane bit his lip.

Could he trust Fell?

_What if, what if?_

“How do I know you truly mean well?”

“You don’t,” Fell sighed.

Bane stared intently for a long moment, trying to decide.

He wanted to trust Fell.

“Will it be any better than here?”

Could it get any worse, anyway?

“You’ll be safe,” Fell promised. “No shadowhunters, no alphas.”

_No alphas._

No, Bane didn’t like Alphas much. Not the ones he’d met.

“Promise?” he asked, finally letting himself hope, letting himself relax his guard.

Fell wouldn’t lie to him.

“Promise,” Fell said firmly.

Bane glanced to the door. “When do we leave?”

Fell stood, walking to the door. “Well, we might need an escape plan,” he observed, peeking out of the door. “No watch outside. But Marceline there should be back soon.”

Bane couldn’t hold back his laugh completely this time. “Marceline?” he snorted.

Fell shot him an amused look. Realizing he’d said that out loud, Bane quieted, biting his lip. He wasn’t supposed to laugh at adults.

“Can you stand?”

Bane nodded meekly, stumbling to his feet– only for pain to shoot through thighs, hips, and feet, causing him to collapse to his knees with a muffled cry.

He fell back against the wall again, curling the blanket tighter around him. He looked away from Fell, wondering if he’d get punished for lying.

“You don’t have to stand,” Fell reassured. He wasn’t angry. “If you can’t, it’s quite all right.”

Bane bit his lip, playing with his fingers nervously. He shifted, lifting his leg to show Fell the painful welts and bruises on his thighs and feet.

“Sometimes I still… I hurt people,” Bane explained. “When they get too close, or in my sleep. Brother Enoch punishes me so I don’t again. He said it’s a valuable lesson.”

Seeing Fell’s furious expression, Bane backtracked. “I don’t mean to,” he insisted. “I really don’t! It just– it happens!”

Fell inhaled deeply. He still looked angry. Bane shrank back slightly.

“I’m not going to punish you,” Fell said firmly. “You’ve done _nothing wrong._ I’ll just have to carry you.”

The sudden turnaround threw Bane off. “W-what?”

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” Fell asked, leaning down again to gently hold Bane’s leg up, examining his wounds.

“N-no,” Bane said nervously. “Just my- never mind.”

Fell didn’t need to know about the vicious bruises on his hips. They looked too much like handprints to be mistaken for anything else, and Bane didn’t want to lose whatever chance he had here.

Fell didn’t seem to notice, frowning at his wounds and hovering his hand directly above the blots of discolored skin.

Bane watched in surprised awe as green light shimmered in Fell’s palms. He’d already seen his magic once, but it had been so briefly Bane hadn’t had the time to be surprised.

Now, seeing someone else like him, with powers like his…

And Fell was _good_ at it. He was controlling it.

Which meant… it could be controlled.

And as the light washed over Bane’s wounds, they seemed to shrink just a little bit. With a cool, soft feeling, the pain shrank, too, until it was almost nothing.

“Am I to walk now?” he asked.

“No, of course not,” Fell said. “You’ll open the wounds up again. I only took away the pain. As I said, I’ll carry you.”

Bane didn’t say anything.

“Is… that alright?” Fell asked, almost hesitant.

It was odd. So far, he’d been nothing but confident.

Bane hesitated himself, then nodded. “Are we going now?”

“Do you want to?”

Bane found himself nodding without hesitation. “I don’t like it here,” he admitted, glancing around the room as if one Trueblood might pop out of the walls.

“Shadowhunters are cruel,” Fell agreed. “I can’t blame you.”

“The Silent Brothers aren’t so bad,” Bane said.

Most of them weren’t, really. They fed him, clothed him. They were... well, silent, and not exactly loving guardians, but it was nothing Bane couldn't deal with. And even Brother Enoch was just trying to make sure he didn’t hurt anyone. Bane couldn’t blame them for wanting to protect innocent people from… well. From him.

“They just want to make sure I don’t blow anything up. I just don’t like Master Trueblood. Do I still have to call him that?”

“No,” his new teacher said. “Are you ready to go?”

Bane nodded, almost not trusting himself to speak. His breath was caught in his throat.

He was leaving.

He was _leaving._ And he knew he wasn’t going to accidentally hurt someone, because Fell was here to stop him if he did.

Fell stepped forward and carefully wound his arms around Bane, tilting Bane’s body back to scoop him up in Fell’s arms.

Bane squirmed for a moment, uncomfortable, but settled soon enough, turning his face towards Fell’s chest.

Bane inhaled, relaxing slowly. Fell’s scent was surprisingly soothing- like old books and rainwater. It was subtle, but comforting.

Fell didn’t say very much after that, just carrying him carefully out of the small room.

The steady rhythm of Fell’s footsteps, his warm, faint scent, the arms supporting his thin body (surprisingly) comfortably– it slowly began to lull him to sleep.

He was jarred out of his trance-like state by Fell coming to a sudden stop, and voices.

“Where are you taking him?” someone said. In his haze, Bane still recognized it as Trueblood. He tensed slightly, hoping Fell could protect him.

“You didn’t seriously think I would be leaving him _here,_ did you?” Fell said somewhere above him, arms tightening around him protectively.

“It is an omega, and the Silent Brothers’ ward,” Trueblood snapped. “and it’s my responsibility. You have no right to take it!”

It.

Bane hated being called an it, even if he wasn’t sure that it didn’t fit. He wondered if Trueblood considered him an ‘it’ because of his heritage, or because of his secondary gender. He wondered what Fell thought on the subject.

“ _He_ is a _warlock,_ and doesn’t fall under your jurisdiction at _all,_ ” Fell hissed. “And what does his being an omega matter? Answer: it doesn’t. We are leaving.”

Bane curled a little closer into Fell, feeling a certain warmth in his chest. Apparently, _that_ was how he felt about it.

Bane still didn’t shift to see the shadowhunter, burying his face in Fell’s shirt. Fell jostled him slightly, jerking away from something. Presumably, Trueblood had tried to grab him.

“Do not cross me,” Fell said dangerously.

There was a silent stand-off.

Bane trembled slightly, wondering if Fell was going to put him down, give up.

“Fine,” Trueblood said finally, Bane could practically hear him gritting his teeth. “It’s your problem now.”

“Good day, _sir,_ ” Fell bit out in reply. “I do hope to never see you again.”

Fell carried him outside, never once letting go. He occasionally shifted to accommodate his weight, but never putting him down. Even though Bane’s wounds still kind of ached, Fell was unbelievably gentle with him in a way no one had been since his very early childhood.

He was content with just being carried, not starting any conversation.

It was only after what felt like hours that Bane gathered the courage to speak.

“Thank you,” he murmured, shifting a bit awkwardly in his arms.

“No problem, kid,” he said a bit gruffly. But he didn’t sound angry, he sounded almost… fond.  “We’re going to have to get you some better clothes.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, not my best.... but there will be more to come!

**Author's Note:**

> Title is based on MILCK's "Devil, Devil"
> 
> prompts are always welcome! 
> 
> come shout at me on [tumblr](https://thesweetestpandemonium.tumblr.com/)


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